Taken
by talenx5220
Summary: The thirteen Forsaken are back. They capture Aviendha and use her to snare the Dragon Reborn. Now Rand al'Thor must free himself and the woman he loves before he is forced to kneel to the Dark One at Shayol Ghul...
1. Default Chapter

Rand al'Thor, also known as the Dragon Reborn, the Coramoor, and the Car'a'carn, grimaced as he walked down the crowded streets. There is not enough space, and too many people. Why does anyone want to live in this Light-forsaken city, anyway?  
  
Actually, it could not properly be called a city. It was more like a large village. Shops lined the dusty roads, interspersed with the small dwellings belonging to the poorer inhabitants, and there were only two center squares where huge trees grew.  
  
Beyond the shops were the larger houses and small manors of the rest of the villagers, who had more money. There were not many of them.  
  
Like Emond's Field, Rand thought, and was suddenly hit by a powerful wave of homesickness. In his mind, he pictured the neat rows of houses, the Winespring Inn, the farm on which he had grown up. I wish I had come with Perrin when he went back. I miss it so much.  
  
I wish I had never left it.  
  
He sensed a vague interest from Lews Therin, who seemed to be studying the images Rand had called up. The man didn't seem insane at all. Your home?  
  
Rand caught his breath. Lews Therin was addressing him, a rare occurence. He wasn't sure what it meant. It was probably a sign that he was going mad.  
  
Yes, he thought back cautiously. My home. Emond's Field.  
  
Lews Therin laughed softly. Home. His laughter grew louder. I once called a place home. Pictures flashed briefly in Rand's mind, and he staggered in surprise, stride halting for an instant. A castle, with tall marble columns. An airy entrance hall with sunlight flooding in. Elaborate hangings, beautiful tapestries.  
  
A lovely woman with hair like the sun.  
  
Ilyena, Lews Therin said. He sounded disbelieving. I killed her.  
  
More images came and went. The same castle, which seemed to have been destroyed. Scorch marks marred walls. The walls and floor seemed to have melted and run. Dead bodies lay everywhere.  
  
The golden haired woman lying lifeless on the floor.  
  
Rand stumbled to a wall and braced himself against it. This had never happened before, not this strongly. You killed them when you went mad, he told Lews Therin, struggling to force the pictures away. They vanished abruptly. They named you Kinslayer, for that.  
  
But it appeared that Lews Therin had lost his moment of temporary sanity. Ilyena, he wept. Ilyena! Voice and presence fled.  
  
Rand shivered uncontrollably, still holding on to the wall. I am going mad. A man dead for Ages lives in my head.  
  
Forcing his legs straight, he made himself come away from the wall. Firmly, he focused on what he had come to Altono to do.  
  
The day before, he had felt Aviendha experience a moment of excruciating pain through the bond. Whatever it was, it had evidently rendered her unconscious. He had run back to where he felt her to be, but too late. He had felt her location change suddenly and drastically, which could only mean someone had taken her through a gateway.  
  
Rand hadn't even stopped to speak with Elayne or Min, and certainly not the Maidens. Right where he was, he had opened a gateway to approximately where she had gone. He had come out in Merandar, a city near Altono. The rest of that day was spent tracking aimlessly through Merandar, only pausing to buy a plain cloak and wrappings for his sword until he had finally followed the bond to Altono.  
  
Rand had spent the night in an inn and risen with the sun to continue looking through Altono.  
  
I think I'm getting close. . . Yes, he definitely was. He could feel Aviendha stronger now, close by. She was still unconscious.  
  
Rand stepped into a dark alley and frowned. He stood before the entrance to an inn. The Gleeman's Secret. The painted sign above the door featured a dark haired gleeman with the traditional patched cloak juggling three red balls with one hand. The other was hidden in his cloak. Rand thought he saw a glint of steel among the folds close to the man's hand.  
  
Hiding a knife. Rand laughed to himself. Looks like Thom.  
  
Something was wrong. Why would the innkeeper want the door to his inn to be in an alley like this? It can't be good for business. Puzzled, he glanced back at the street. None of the crowd even looked toward the alley.  
  
But Aviendha was in that inn. Rand slowly put his hand on the doorknob and swung the door open.  
  
The common room was empty. No taverners sat at the darkly polished tables. No serving maids scurried among the chairs. The innkeeper wasn't even there.  
  
Now Rand knew something was wrong. There was always someone in an inn's common room. Alarmed, he seized saidin. The roiling storm of ice and fire nearly swept him away, and he breathed deeply, reveling in the struggle. Since he had removed the taint on the male half of the True Source, saidin had become more tempting than ever.  
  
Don't become too fond of the feeling, Rand told himself firmly. You could burn yourself out. He started cautiously across the vacant common room, every detail sharper with his newly heightened senses. It smelled faintly musty, as if it had not been aired out in a while. Rand glimpsed a light coating of dust on the tables.  
  
Aviendha was upstairs. Rand felt her though the bond. He stepped cautiously up the staircase, peering into the dimness with his saidin- enhanced vision. Still, he could see nothing.  
  
He could hear his boots on the wooden steps. The soft sound seemed louder than a shout in the empty inn. Step. Step. Step. He reached the second floor and cautiously entered a carpeted hall.  
  
Doors lined the walls, all closed. No light shone under any of them . . . except one.  
  
Aviendha was in there. Rand stepped slowly towards it and hesitated. What could be in there with her? He surprised himself by considering going back for Elayne, or Nynaeve. Then maybe he would stand a chance.  
  
But what could happen to Aviendha while I'm gone? For a moment he just stood there, undecided, poised either to weave a gateway back to the Palace or fling open the door.  
  
Ilyena! Lews Therin was back.  
  
Go away! Rand ordered the presence. Lews Therin vanished - but not before the image of the dead sunhaired woman flashed in his mind again. Ilyena!  
  
Rand growled under his breath. Fool, you do not base your decision on a madman's thoughts! It was a halfhearted thought.  
  
He kicked the door open, saidin at the ready. But he nearly lost it at what he saw.  
  
Aviendha lay still on a bed across the room, bound with Air made of saidin. Even with his heightened vision, he could not see her chest rise and fall.  
  
In two steps, he was by her side. He took her into his arms, wishing desperately that he knew how to Heal; he might kill her trying. Her skin was cold and pale, and her head lolled on his shoulder. Light, Aviendha! he mouthed silently. He noticed distantly that his hands were trembling as they felt at her throat for a pulse. Aviendha!  
  
Saidin! the working part of his brain screamed at him. Or maybe it was Lews Therin. She is trapped with saidin!  
  
Rand's head snapped up as a shield of Spirit slammed between him and saidin.  
  
He instinctively hurled his strength against the invisible barrier. No effect. Light-blinded fool! It was a trap! Before he could throw himself at the shield again, the door to the back room swung open and a girl stepped in.  
  
His skin rose in goosebumps; she was holding saidar. She was a short woman, with silvery hair, wearing a pure white dress belted in wide silver.  
  
Rand let go of Aviendha with an effort and slowly stood to face the newcomer, who was wearing an amused smile. "What have you done to her?" he demanded with cold fury. Light, if she is dead -  
  
"The wench?" The silvery-haired girl's smile grew. "She is not dead, Lews Therin, if that is what you are asking."  
  
Rand forced himself to think clearly. Only one of the Forsaken would call me that. He looked closely at the short woman before him. I have never seen her before, Lews Therin muttered. How can she be so strong in the Power as to hold a shield on me?  
  
Lanfear, wearing that dress and that condescending smile, surrounded by cool serenity. Fool man! Lanfear is dead! No, it had to be -  
  
"What do you want with me?" Rand gathered his strength. Now or never . . .  
  
The silvery-haired woman seemed to think for a moment, tapping her finger on her lips, and it was then that Rand chose to strike. He shoved suddenly against the shield, which gave way slowly, and then faster and faster -  
  
Lanfear staggered back, eyes wide, and opened her mouth as if to call out. Rand pushed harder, desperately. I have to reach saidin before whoever is with her comes -  
  
With a sensation like shattering glass, the shield broke. Saidin rushed into Rand, and even before he had gotten full control of it, he wove a shield of Spirit and slammed it down where he thought the girl's connection to saidar would be.  
  
It was like forcing a carving knife through thick rubber. Rand started to sweat as he struggled to bring the shield down. Lanfear bit her lip -  
  
Sammael, walked out of the back room, grinning. Behind him came the rest of the thirteen Forsaken, all exactly as he had remembered them. As Lews Therin had remembered them. But how could it be!?  
  
Graendal, Semirhage, Demandred, Mesaana, Ishamael, Balthamel, Aginor, Be'lal, Rahvin, Asmodean, and Moghedien.  
  
All of them held the One Power.  
  
Rand's fingers tightened briefly on Aviendha's body as he flailed wildly at the shield between him and saidin. He realized with a sinking feeling that the shield was the strongest he had ever seen, or not seen, and with a snarl, he drew his sword.  
  
Rand leaped at Sammael with Woodsman Swings His Ax, assuming the Void. They've killed Aviendha! The Forsaken no longer bore the scar that Lews Therin had given him, having a new face, but Rand gave him another - the point of the heron-marked sword cut his cheek as he threw himself aside desperately.  
  
Sammael staggered back, hand to his face, and shouted in rage when he took his fingers away and saw blood. He angrily lashed out with the Power and Rand was knocked backwards by a club of Air.  
  
Still in the Void, he felt but didn't feel the impact. Regaining his balance in a split second, he moved forward, sword at the ready, and swung with River Undercuts the Bank, calculated to slice five of the nearest Forsaken in two. It would have hit, but Ishamael wove a trap of Air, stopped the strike, and pulled the sword from his hands.  
  
The heron-marked sword flew through the air, and Ishamael caught it and studied it with interest, turning it over in his hands. "Lews Therin has again acquired a blademaster's sword," he said. "Fitting."  
  
The Void vanished with Rand's concentration. Aviendha gave me that sword . . . As he tried to find the cool emptiness again, battering uselessly at the shield of Spirit, saidar formed a fist of Air and slammed him to the floor. More blows of saidar started to fall upon him, forcing him to the floor, but Sammael said "Stop!"  
  
One more punch landed, presumably from Lanfear, whose mouth was twisted in contempt. Then blows stopped. Rand gave a silent prayer of thanks. They're going to kill me, right here and now . . . I have to get my sword back!  
  
"Why?" asked Graendal. Her face also portrayed distaste. "He does deserve it."  
  
"I do not argue on that point," Sammael answered, looking as if he wished he did. "But I think Semirhage will agree with me when I say we should do it this way." He walked over to Rand, who was still trying to catch his breath, and kicked him in the stomach. Rand doubled up in pain. Oh, Light, it hurts. Aviendha!  
  
He tried to get up again, but Rahvin kicked him. The Forsaken looked at Sammael with a grin. "You're right, friend, it IS more satisfying this way."  
  
Rand redoubled his efforts to reach saidin. I'm a dead man . . . It was no use. All the female Forsaken had linked to weave the shield. There were five soft points on it; they had not tied it off.  
  
Ishamael, Demandred, and Asmodean joined Rahvin and Sammael, and they all started beating Rand up without the aid of saidin, kicking him with booted feet where he lay on the floor.  
  
He clenched his teeth - I won't make a sound! - and curled up into a ball, trying to protect himself from the blows that just kept coming. It hurt more than anything he had ever experienced, even more than the beatings of Air he had received at the hands of the Red Ajah. My bones must be breaking. He knew his heart was breaking. Aviendha was dead. She must be dead, and it was his fault. I should have made her go somewhere safe . . .  
  
The five Forsaken kept kicking him, taunting him, for a long time, venting their anger and frustration at him with every hit. He closed his eyes as his body absorbed the abuse.  
  
Finally, the beating stopped, and Rand lay on the floor, bruised, battered, and winded. The old half-healed scar had broken open, flooding his side with pain. He couldn't move, much less get up.  
  
But he didn't have a choice. Ishamael and Sammael hauled him to his feet and held him up as Lanfear walked came forward. Dizzy with pain, he hung in their grip, unable even to keep his head up. Have to . . . them . . . in the eye . . .His thoughts came in disjointed sequences. His head felt too heavy to lift, and every time he moved it, a sharp pain shot through his temples.  
  
Lanfear stopped right in front of him, and regarded him thoughtfully. "I like you like this," she said finally. "You were so arrogant the last time I saw you. And now," she continued, putting a finger under his chin and raising his head - he winced - "your fate will be decided by me."  
  
Rand called upon every ounce of strength he had left and threw it at the shield, praying desperately. Please, Light -  
  
Lanfear's mouth quirked in an amused smile. "You don't have a chance, Lews Therin," she chided. "When will you learn you are mine now?"  
  
"I'd rather have died at Chambel Pass than live a moment with you, Mierin!" he spat at her, jerking his chin away. Immediately he wished the words back in his mouth. Lews Therin had spoken through him, again - he had never heard of Chambel Pass, much less been there. She is not Mierin, she's Lanfear - one of the Forsaken! Her hair was a silvery color now, her eyes different as well, but her knew who she was.  
  
Lanfear had taken a step back and was looking at Rand with an unreadable expression. Suddenly she drew her hand back and slapped him so hard that his head snapped sideways. His cheek burned, and his head rung.  
  
"Don't speak to me that way, Lews Therin," she said softly. "You'll learn to love me again, more than you ever loved that idiot Ilyena. I'll make sure of that before these 'men' decide to kill you." She smiled at Rahvin and Sammael, and then looked back at Rand. She raised her hand again, and he almost cringed, expecting another slap. Instead, Lanfear drew her fingernail along his cheek, and down to trace around his jawbone, making him wince as it touched his bruises. "I'll make sure."  
  
Rand jerked his head away again, and Sammael's hands tightened painfully on his arm. "What did you do to her, Lanfear?" Rand asked quietly, ignoring the sudden pressure. He carefully avoided looking at the still figure on the bed.  
  
Lanfear only smiled in reply. She turned and started away.  
  
Something broke in Rand. "What did you do to her?!" he yelled, struggling against the two Forsaken who held him, trying in vain to reach Lanfear. She never looked back. "If she's dead, I swear I'll kill you!"  
  
Rahvin punched him in the stomach and he went limp again, taking rasping breaths. Sammael and Ishamael half dragged, half carried him to the back room where the other Forsaken had woven a gateway.  
  
He peered through the oval hanging a few inches off the ground. Inside, he could see marble columns and tapestries of silk and velvet. Graceful-looking people dressed in the same materials lounged and danced in the new area.  
  
Rahvin appeared behind him, carrying Aviendha's unmoving form. Rand almost started toward her again, but stopped himself. In good time . . .  
  
The five women stepped through the gateway first, then seven more Forsaken, and then Rahvin with his precious burden.  
  
Ilyena, Lews Therin was sobbing again.  
  
Aviendha, Rand cried inside his head. Aviendha, I'll always love you . . .  
  
The Forsaken shoved him through the gateway and it turned sideways and closed.  
  
The room in The Gleeman's Secret was empty. 


	2. 2

Aviendha opened her eyes.  
  
The first thing she noticed was that she was shielded, with saidin. She tested the barrier tentatively, and then pounded on it. It didn't budge. She had come to depend on saidar more than her spears, and without it she felt helpless.  
  
The next thing she noticed was the Warder bond that connected her to Rand. At the moment, worry and despair flooded through, along with pain. She gasped. It felt like he had been beaten, and recently. But who could do that to him?  
  
Perhaps the same people who had put her in here - wherever this was. It was completely dark, and the air was musty and cold. The floor she was lying on was damp stone, cold and hard.  
  
She couldn't remember anything.  
  
Aviendha sat up, and barely restrained a groan. Waves of pain washed through her head at the movement. Her mouth and throat felt dry, parched. It had been a while since she had been this thirsty - she needed water. What happened to me?  
  
Ignoring her head, which was beginning to feel like it had been pounded on an anvil, she got up, supporting herself on the wall. The wall, too, was made of stone.  
  
Her feet were bare, and it felt like she was wearing a dress. Feeling at it, Aviendha realized that it was rough cotton, coming in at the waist, with a hem that brushed the ground. She blinked in confusion.  
  
Her hand went to her wrist, and she breathed a sigh of relief upon feeling the ivory bracelet that Rand had given to her. They could take anything else, but if they took this, I would - She suppressed the ensuing violent thoughts and felt at her throat for the next important piece of jewelry, a silver necklace of snowflakes from Egwene, her near sister. Aviendha smiled as her fingers met the carved silver.  
  
She began to walk unsteadily along the wall. Roughly thirteen steps later, she met another stone wall. Nineteen more steps along the new wall, and she ran into another.  
  
It was a moderately large room. She began to wish there was some light, and that she had her spears and buckler with her. Or that she could reach the True Source. She shoved again against the clear shield keeping saidar away.  
  
She started walking towards the center of the room, when suddenly her foot hit something cold and sharp. It clattered with a metallic sound.  
  
It sounded like a weapon. Aviendha crouched and felt for it along the floor. Her fingers closed firmly on a metal blade, and sprang open again when they were cut. Aviendha let loose a few curses she had heard Mat use in the Old Tongue and felt gingerly at the deep cuts. She cautiously reached out again, and this time her hand felt some kind of polished handle. Puzzled, she hefted it and moved her other hand along to where it gave way to sharp metal. Her fingers met a pattern etched into the smooth surface, and she ran her fingers over the grooves, trying to feel what it was.  
  
A heron. A heron carved on the blade of a sword.  
  
Aviendha flung the sword away, leaping backwards and frantically rubbing her hands on the rough material of her dress. Light, I touched a sword! If I survive whatever it is I'm in, if I get back to the Waste, I don't know if the others will let me live!  
  
What happens to an Aiel who touches a sword? Fool woman! You didn't realize what it was until it was too late! She rubbed the slashes in her hand. Wounds from a sword. She shuddered uncontrollably.  
  
Then she froze. The hilt had been an ordinary sword handle. Almost unheard of on a blademaster's sword - except in one case.  
  
It was Rand's sword.  
  
Aviendha shivered again, unable to stop. Rand is here. He is here, and maybe a prisoner as I am.  
  
She began to concentrate intensely, difficult because she was so thirsty that it was a distraction. How did we get here?  
  
The last thing she recalled was the light-haired serving woman who had come to take the tray from lunch away . . . she had thought there was something odd about her. Aviendha closed her eyes, focusing on the woman. It made her head hurt more. What had been odd?  
  
Suddenly it came to her, as if she had been able to pull it out from somewhere locked up in her head. The woman had been too proud, stood too tall, and looked her right in the eye when she came for the tray. The other servants in the palace were subservient, meek. And they never met the eyes of the people they served.  
  
Aviendha sank to the floor as the memories started rushing back. One by one, she grabbed them and studied them.  
  
The woman had tried to shield her, so suddenly that it had almost worked. Aviendha had caught the knife-edge just before it sliced completely through her link to saidar, which she had embraced as soon as she felt something was wrong.  
  
She had struggled for nearly a minute to keep the shield away, but the woman was too strong. It was then that Aviendha realized the woman was one of the Forsaken; she had not met anyone with that much ability other than Nynaeve.  
  
The woman had woven a gateway and dragged her through, bound in Air. The other Forsaken were waiting. They called the one who had kidnapped her Semirhage. Aviendha was not told where she was, or why she had been taken.  
  
Then, one of the other Forsaken, a man, had woven something of saidin that she had never seen before. She did not see it until it was flung over her, and then suddenly her skin started burning as if a flaming net had enveloped her. She dimly remembered screaming herself hoarse as blackness rushed in on her.  
  
And now she was here.  
  
The Forsaken used me to trap Rand, she realized. They knew he would feel me leave through the gateway, and come after me by following the bond. She blinked back angry tears. It's my fault if they have him! She felt the pain from him again, the gloomy emotions, and now a new one - anger.  
  
What did they do to him? What are they doing to him?  
  
And why is his sword here with me?  
  
Suddenly, part of the wall seemed to come away, letting in bright light. She put her arm up in front of her eyes, squinting, and realized that there had been a door made out of stone that had seemed to be part of a wall.  
  
The most beautiful woman she had ever seen stood in the doorway. She wore pure white, belted in silver, and reminded Aviendha strongly of Lanfear. The features were different, but the same cold, haughty quality was present.  
  
For a moment, the two women just stood staring at each other, Aviendha glaring a challenge, Lanfear cool and amused. The air was thick with tension.  
  
Then Lanfear lifted a waterskin. "Are you thirsty?"  
  
Aviendha did not answer. She was once more acutely aware of her raging thirst, making her wonder how long it had been since she had last had some water. "What have you done with Rand al'Thor?"  
  
"Answer me," Lanfear said. She was smiling, for some reason. "Are you thirsty?"  
  
"No," Aviendha lied. She is taunting me! But is this wise? When will I get another chance at water? She avoided looking at the skin in Lanfear's hand. She could hear water sloshing in it. "Where is Rand?"  
  
"Oh, Rand is quite safe, I assure you." Lanfear was still smiling. Now her attention seemed to be all on the waterskin. She shook it, and water splashed inside again. "You would be the one called Aviendha, am I right?"  
  
Aviendha refused to lick her dry lips. "Yes. And you are Lanfear." The name did not make her tremble, as she had noticed other people did when they heard it.  
  
"I am called Cyndane now. But I am still Lanfear, yes." Lanfear idly tossed the skin up and caught it. The sounds of water were making Aviendha crazy. No! She is toying with me. I will not be used! She seemed to remember Rand saying that often. Rand . . .  
  
Suddenly Lanfear stopped playing with the waterskin and focused on Aviendha. "You have bedded him," she said matter-of-factly. "You love him, as well?"  
  
Aviendha stared at her. The Daughter of the Night loved Lews Therin, she thought. "Yes," she said slowly.  
  
"Lews Therin Telamon is mine," Lanfear said with sudden intensity, hands tightening on the waterskin. "He has always been mine, and will always be so. He loves me!"  
  
Aviendha didn't reply. What is she trying to do . . . ?  
  
Lanfear abruptly seemed to calm down. She shook the waterskin, staring at Aviendha. "I know you want this," she said softly, lips curving up in a smile again. "You deny it, but I can see it in your eyes. And I will give it to you," she went on, smile widening, "if you just do a small thing for me."  
  
Aviendha watched the other woman as she might watch a wildcat about to spring. "What do you want from me?"  
  
"I want you to admit it," Lanfear said, still quietly. Her eyes were riveted to Aviendha's face. "I want you to admit that Lews Therin - Rand - has never loved you. I want you to admit that he loves me, and he is mine."  
  
The water sloshed enticingly.  
  
Aviendha reproved herself sharply. You are not thirsty. She unsuccessfully tried to ignore her parched mouth. "Rand al'Thor loves me!" she growled, stepping forward. "Lews Therin was yours, perhaps, but Rand al'Thor belongs to my near sisters and I! He loves me!" And I love him . . . .  
  
Lanfear stared at her for a moment, and then shook her head slowly. "That was the wrong answer, Aviendha," she said with mock disappointment. "I'm afraid I cannot give you any water" - she looked thoughtfully at the waterskin, and tucked it behind her belt with a sigh - "until you do as I have told you and admit the truth." She waited for a moment, still smiling, and then turned, skirts swishing, to close the door.  
  
The wall slammed shut behind her, leaving Aviendha in the darkness once more.  
  
She just stood there for a moment, glaring at where she knew the door was, and then slowly but deliberately walked over to where she had thrown the sword. Suppressing the urge to cringe, the hatred and fear of swords bred in her, she picked it up and cradled it in her arms, thinking of its owner.  
  
"Rand al'Thor loves me," she said to no one in particular.  
  
But the fact was not making her any less thirsty. 


	3. 3

Rand sat against the back wall of his cell.  
  
The Forsaken had thrown him in here several hours before, and he had spent the time overcoming the pain of the battering they had given him.  
  
At first, he couldn't stand at all, and every time he moved pain would shoot through his body. He lay on the floor for a long time, assessing the damage.  
  
His body, especially his ribs, was a mass of bruises from the numerous kicks landed there. It made it hard to breathe. His head felt like someone had driven a knife through it, and then half-Healed it. Agonizing pain flared in his right arm every time he tried to move it, and something was wrong with his left ankle.  
  
The side of his coat was soaked through with blood from the wound in his side that broken open. It throbbed and burned agonizingly.  
  
Not to mention the fact that he was so thirsty he would kill for a waterskin.  
  
He laughed bitterly. I must look a mess. But that was the least of his worries.  
  
He had risen from the floor quickly, so he would not change his mind and fall back. Every part of his body screamed in protest, and he had braced himself against the wall, eyes tightly closed, until the wash of agony had passed. Then he had walked around his cell, or rather limped because of his ankle, fumbling against the shield between him and saidin  
  
Finally he had sat down to think.  
  
Aviendha was his first concern. When the feel of her came rushing back through the bond, he had nearly cried in relief that she was not dead. She did not even seem to be hurt, except for a bad headache. And she was thirsty, as he was.  
  
She had cut herself on something; her hand stung. The pain sensation quickly faded. What remained was a sense of disgust, as if she had touched something dead or slimy and rotting. What could that be? The following feelings of shock and loss confused him.  
  
Very soon after that, he had felt her begin to concentrate, as if she was trying to retrieve something lost in her memory. Whatever the Forsaken had done to her must have temporarily made her forget.  
  
Rand sat there, leaning back on the wall with his eyes closed, reveling in the awareness of her that had been lost for what seemed like an eternity. She wasn't dead. That was all that mattered. I love you, Aviendha, he thought silently, again and again, as if the feeling could somehow carry through the bond.  
  
Suddenly, his cell opened and he scrambled to his feet, gritting his teeth. Light, it feels like I've been stoned! Asmodean stepped in, grimacing slightly as he looked around.  
  
"What do you want?" Rand asked rudely. What's wrong with you? Are you trying to provoke them?  
  
"To give the Lord Dragon his water," Asmodean answered calmly, holding up a waterskin. Rand couldn't tell if he was mocking him or not.  
  
"Don't call me that." He stepped forward cautiously, refusing to let the Forsaken see him limp, and took the skin. He shook it. "How do I know this isn't poisoned?"  
  
Asmodean laughed. "That would be rather crude, my Lord Dragon. We could have killed you in Altono. What is there to be gained by poisoning you now?"  
  
Rand considered, and then uncorked the skin and drank deeply. Nothing seemed to be wrong with the cool water, and it felt unbelievably refreshing, rushing down his dry throat.  
  
When he lowered it, Asmodean was staring at him. "What?" he asked. This man is making me nervous . . . "Do you want revenge for how I made you teach me?" And I wouldn't put it past him. After all, he is one of the Forsaken.  
  
"No," the other man said thoughtfully. He gave Rand an odd look. "I was your enemy. I was trying to ruin you. When Lanfear netted me for you, you could have made my life miserable, without consequence. But you did not."  
  
"I'm not Semirhage," Rand said angrily. "I don't get pleasure out of ruining people's lives." He stared at the Forsaken. "Where is Aviendha?"  
  
"I would not have been so . . . sparing," Asmodean said softly.  
  
"Where is Aviendha?" Rand persisted.  
  
The Forsaken sighed and let it go. "Safe in her cell, my Lord Dragon. I think Lanfear is talking to her."  
  
Rand stiffened. What could she want with Aviendha? But he already knew. As the thought passed through his head, he could feel her tense through the bond, and he sensed that she was more aware of her thirst.  
  
Rand felt irrationally guilty that he had had water and she had not. He turned back to Asmodean. "Have you given her water?"  
  
"Lanfear is taking a skin to her." The other man frowned. "I don't know if she will give her the water, though."  
  
"What do you mean?" Rand asked sharply.  
  
"Oh, I don't know," Asmodean dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. "Let me ask you a question, though." He turned dark eyes on Rand. "Do you love her?"  
  
"Aviendha?"  
  
"No, Lanfear." The Forsaken was frowning again, but this time at Rand. "She loved Lews Therin, and Lews Therin loved Ilyena Sunhair."  
  
"I hate Lanfear," Rand said with conviction. What does he care?  
  
Asmodean was watching him curiously. "I must go," he said abruptly. He held out a hand, and Rand tossed him the skin. "Will you make sure Aviendha gets water?" he said, and winced. There was entierely too much pleading in his voice. Why am I asking him? He won't care. But, to his surprise, Asmodean hesitated, and then nodded.  
  
When the man was gone, Rand once more sat against the wall, thinking. What is it about that man? He doesn't seem to hate me, like the others do. Does it have something to do with -  
  
No.  
  
He concentrated on Aviendha again. She was no longer tense; Lanfear must have left.  
  
And she was still thirsty. 


	4. 4

"Light curse the girl!" Cyndane strode into Graendal's sitting room, fuming.  
  
Seven of the Chosen were in there, as well as Moridin. Aginor, Balthamel, and Be'lal were holding the shield on Lews Therin, and Mesaana and Moghedien maintained the weaves on Aviendha.  
  
"Trouble with Lews Therin's wench?" Ishamael asked with an amused smile.  
  
Cyndane shot a look of pure venom at him, but he remained unfazed. Light curse him, as well, while it's at it.  
  
"Now, now, be nice, Cyndane," Moridin said lazily. He stroked her cour'sovra, and she shivered at the feeling. I hate the man!  
  
She crossed the room and threw herself into a chair beside Rahvin, who was smoking his pipe. The other Chosen spared her a disinterested glance.  
  
"Oh come on, all of you, lighten up!" Sammael said suddenly, leaning forward in his chair. He held a pipe, as well, smoking forgotten in his hand. "We have taken the Dragon Reborn, and thirteen Myrddraal are on their way to the Pit of Doom. Shaidar Haran is one of them." Everyone started looking uneasy. Nobody knew anything about the taller-than-average Myrddraal, only that he was of some special importance to the Great Lord and had unusual powers.  
  
Cyndane suspected that Moridin knew more about Shaidar Haran than he let on.  
  
Asmodean seemed lost in thought, lounging in his own deep red armchair. Cyndane wondered what he could be so engrossed in. "What are you thinking about, Joar?" she asked curiously. He started, looking up sharply. Cyndane waited. Then she realized that everyone else was looking at her as well. She sighed. She had just displayed knowledge that only one of the Chosen could have. If there had been any doubt before as to her being Lanfear reincarnated, it was gone now. "Yes, I am the Daughter of the Night," she announced irritably. "You all knew that."  
  
"The Daughter, with a child's impulsive mind," Rahvin murmured softly, and held up his hands in defense as Cyndane snarled at him. "My apologies, Lanfear."  
  
"I am still the strongest among you," she snapped. She just stopped herself from looking to Moridin to see if he was displeased. The man does not own me! Well, actually he did, but he did not need any more reminders. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him smile as if he knew what she was thinking. She barely stopped a scream of frustration.  
  
"You are the next to strongest," Ishamael corrected her.  
  
Cyndane gave the Betrayer of Hope a cold glance and he laughed softly, inhaling the smoke from his pipe in one deep breath.  
  
"Really, why are you so - snappish?" Semirhage asked with false concern painted on her face. The woman had put her feet up and was the very picture of relaxation. Cyndane was not fooled; the glow of saidar surrounded Semirhage.  
  
Cyndane forced herself to calm down. "The girl . . . Aviendha . . . is being stubborn."  
  
"She will not renounce her claim on young al'Thor?" laughed Graendal. "I cannot say I blame her. He is a pretty one, Rand. So was Lews Therin."  
  
"None of your business," Cyndane shot back. Meddling fools! I will watch all of them die, slowly and painfully, one day . . .  
  
"Did you give her water?" Asmodean asked all of a sudden. To Cyndane's surprise, it appeared to matter to him if the girl was treated well.  
  
"No," she said shortly. What is going on there?  
  
Asmodean rose from his chair. "Where are you going?" asked Moridin, who was suddenly sitting up straight. "We will be leaving for the Pit of Doom momentarily."  
  
"I will be back before then," Asmodean answered, almost as a child to his overbearing father. Moridin's expression was not a satisfied one, but Asmodean went out the door, anyway. Moridin settled back into his chair, mouth tight as if displeased.  
  
Cyndane held herself in her chair for a few moments more, and then couldn't take it anymore. She bounded up, straightening her skirts, and ignoring the amused looks the others gave her. "I must go as well," she announced, and mentally kicked herself at the bluntness of the statement.  
  
Moridin opened his mouth angrily, but she crossed quickly to the door, slipped out, and closed it firmly behind her.  
  
The hall was dim, and the marble floor shone from the light of the sunset coming in the windows lining the walls. Silk and velvet hung from the light, cream colored walls, draped with care to look as if they had been draped without care.  
  
Cyndane frowned. The hall was long, both ways, but Asmodean was nowhere in sight. He must have Traveled. No matter. She knew where he had gone.  
  
She wove her own gateway there, stepped through, and let it collapse without looking back. There. She had been right. The door to Aviendha's cell stood open, and low voices floated out from within.  
  
Suppressing a sigh at the confirmation of her suspicions, she came to the door and leaned against the cold stone. The dungeons Graendal had designed to be positively medieval: stone, metal bars and darkness. Cyndane lifted her skirts out of a puddle of water, disgusted. Who did she have in mind to keep in these cells? She grimaced, and turned her attention back to the pair before her. Neither of them had noticed her in the doorway.  
  
"Take it," Asmodean was insisting, holding a waterskin practically under Aviendha's nose. She backed away. "Why?" she retorted. "Why would one of you suddenly care?"  
  
The man made an exaspearated noise, leaned forward and whispered something in the Aiel woman's ear. Her eyes widened, and she stepped back again, staring uncertainly at her benefactor. A moment passed, Asmodean still holding out the skin, and then Aviendha reached forward and took it. She kept her eyes on him the entire time. If Cyndane hadn't been so angry that Asmodean was undoing her work, she would have been amused. She is many things, but she is not stupid. She trusts no one.  
  
Cyndane shifted her feet on the damp floor, wondering. What did he say to her?  
  
Aviendha lowered the waterskin and stared at Asmodean a minute more before coming forward and putting the now empty skin into his hands. "Thank you," she said suspiciously, and there was an unspoken But why? at the end.  
  
Asmodean corked the water skin without bothering to answer the unasked question. He turned, seemed unsurprised to see Cyndane in the doorway - Aviendha did gave a start - and brushed past her into the hall.  
  
Cyndane turned unhurriedly, kicking the Aiel prisoner's door closed with her foot. Then she faced Asmodean, who was waiting calmly.  
  
"Explain this to me," she said with barely restrained fury. The man quirked an amused - amused! - eyebrow. "Al'Thor asked me to give water to the girl," he answered.  
  
"And you obliged?!?" Cyndane said incredulously. She cast a look back at the door, where the girl could very well be listening to them, grabbed an unconcerned Asmodean's arm, and yanked him a few paces down the corridor. "You obliged?"  
  
"I am more kindly disposed toward him than you at the moment, Lanfear!" the male Chosen spat in a sudden burst of temper. Cyndane stepped back in spite of herself and clutched her skirts, angry at showing weakness.  
  
Asmodean did not seem to notice. "You wove that cursed shield, netted me without a qualm, and gave me to al'Thor as if I were a parcel for your lover!" He stepped towards her, eyes flashing. "I just barely escaped the cour'sovra because of you - I had to labor to convince the others I was not a traitor, and even then the Great Lord only kept me alive because he couldn't lose one of the Chosen!"  
  
"It''s not about me," Cyndane said softly, realizing. "It's about him, isn't it. Lews Therin. If you cut him slack because he showed mercy toward you, you're wrong!" she hissed. "Lews Therin was always soft- hearted. But remember what mattered. Remember it was he who imprisoned us in Shayol Ghul!"  
  
"Lews Therin put us in there, Mierin," he said. He seemed to be gaining more control over the situation with every word. "Not Rand al'Thor."  
  
Cyndane was aware that her mouth was working soundlessly, but she couldn't do anything to stop it. Burn the man - can he actually be turned that easily?  
  
Asmodean began the weave for a gateway, paused, and then turned back to Cyndane. "He doesn't love you," he said with quiet certainty. "He cannot be forced."  
  
That did it. Cyndane lost control. She slashed with saidar, and the beginnings of Asmodean's gateway vanished. As quickly as she could, she wove a shield of Spirit to block him from the Source. "You condemn yourself, traitor," she snarled as she started to bring it down.  
  
But the other Chosen was ready. He slashed her flows to snap into her, and she staggered. As she did, he pressed her with a shield of his own.  
  
Cyndane just managed to hold the edge back from her connection to the Source. She pushed it back with all her strength, and made another Spirit shield. As she hurled it at Asmodean, the man shoved his own shield back at her.  
  
Saidin met saidar exactly halfway between the two Chosen. Cyndane was stronger, and her shield began forcing Asmodean's weaves back towards him. And just when he least expected it, she lent a small amount of her strength to a new flow of Earth, channeling it into the floor beneath her adversary. The stone rippled, and Asmodean lost his balance, stumbling to catch himself against the wall. It gave Cyndane another edge; as the other Chosen was distracted, she slammed her shield forward as suddenly as she could, and he stopped it with a tremendous amount of effort inches from his connection to saidin.  
  
Smiling now, she pushed her Spirit weaves closer and closer. Asmodean was sweating now, something she hadn't seen him do in a long time. "You can't do this to a Chosen," he panted. "The Great Lord will have your hide!" Cyndane laughed. The man was trying to distract her. She deigned to reply. "He will not mind if I dispose of a Chosen who has started to side with Lews Ther - "  
  
Before she could even finish the name, Asmodean suddenly stopped trying to push her shield away and diverted his strength to a massive inferno of blazing fire that shot at her with blistering heat.  
  
Taken by surprise, Cyndane let go of her blade of Spirit, which had just begun to sever Asmodean's suddenly unresisting connection to the Source. She channeled Water and Air to make a web and flung it over Asmodean's Fire just in time, dousing it seconds before it reached her.  
  
There was no smoke, no steam. The floor and walls were unmarked from both water and fire.  
  
Cyndane threw herself to the ground, and a bar of Spirit passed over her head. She felt her body tingle at the closeness of it. If that weave had hit her, she would be unconscious right now, asleep.  
  
She leaped furiously to her feet, readying another attack - and found that Asmodean was gone. Looking both ways down the hall, she saw a gateway closing to her right. 


End file.
